


Coffee (F***ing)

by enbied



Category: Degrassi: Next Class
Genre: M/M, Mild Kink, fiancés!!!!!!!!!, or maybe i just think it's mild lmfao, thanks in advance for not telling me my weekdays don't line up, trust me i know
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-22
Updated: 2018-09-01
Packaged: 2019-03-22 12:59:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 11,646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13764699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enbied/pseuds/enbied
Summary: i'm already sorry for this





	1. Prologue

Footsteps.  Tristan smirks.

A key in the lock.  Tristan stands.

The doorknob turns.  Tristan walks.

“Hey, babe.”  Miles smiles, brightly, dropping his keys on the table next to the door, as Tristan leans against the wall.

“Hey, handsome.  Guess what?”

“What?”

“I got you something.”

Miles raises his eyebrows, pulling Tris toward him.  “Mm, what ever could it be?”

Tristan kisses him, hands wandering up to Miles’ shoulders as he savours the feeling of his partner’s mouth gently moving with his.

His hands dance back around to Miles’ waist to press their bodies closer together, and he reluctantly breaks their kiss to speak.

“Come to bed.”

“It’s, like, 6 o’clock, dude.”

“Yes, and I want you to come to bed.  You did yesterday,” Tristan prompts.

Miles grins.  “Fair enough; happy to oblige.”

Tristan grips Miles’ hand and spins around, pulling him to their bedroom.

“Okay, so, I don’t know if you’re going to like it.”

“Uh, okay?”

“Actually, I know you’re going to hate it.”

Miles laughs again.  “Sounds like just my scene, then.”

Tristan turns.  “Really?”

Miles squeezes Tristan’s hand.  “You know me.  I’ll try anything once.”

Tristan considers for a moment, then continues walking.

“So, if I asked you to try something frustrating, you’d do it?”

“Depends, but… probably.”

“What if it was… intense?”

“I _love_ intense.”

“Uncomfortable?”

“I’m thinking yes?”

Tristan turns to him again, serious.  “What about… a commitment?”

“We’re already engaged,” Miles teases.

“I don’t mean like that.  I mean…” Tristan takes a breath and opens the bedside drawer, waiting for Miles to look inside.

The brunet tears his eyes away from Tristan and immediately smiles.

“Holy shit!”

“You like it?”

Miles exhales in wonder, touching his lower lip and reaching into the drawer for it.  “Fuck.  Really?”

Tristan gives an affirmative hum as Miles weighs it in his hand.

“How long?”

“That’s… a conversation.”

“Wh- how do you mean?”

“First you’ll have to adjust to it; we can… put it on tonight and check if it fits.  Try it for a few hours.  Then if you’re comfortable with it, we’ll talk.”

Still smirking, Miles looks at his fiancé.  “ _This_ is what you were measuring me for?”

Tris just leans his body against Miles’ and kisses his jaw, watching the brunet survey the object.

“So – so can I put it on now?”

“Sure, if you want.”

“Can I cum first?”

“Nope.”

“Asshole.”

“Hey, you’re gonna want to know what it’s really like.”

Miles deliberates.  “That’s true.”  He sighs.  “Do I have to be hard, or…?”

“You have to be very, very soft,” Tristan teases, reaching for Miles’ belt.

Miles holds back a smile, pushing Tristan’s hands away.  “In that case, I should take my _own_ clothes off.”

“Maybe I should get some pictures of your mom, or…?”  Tristan moves to retrieve his phone, pretending.

“Don’t you fucking dare.”

Tristan laughs, and plays with the hem of Miles’ shirt.  “Seriously, though, we have to be careful with this.  I don’t want to hurt you, or… you know.  We should do this right.  _Safe_.”

“Hey, no, of course, I – I know this is important.”  Miles soothes Tristan, rubbing his thumb over the back of his hand.  “We’re good.”

“Good.”  Tristan replies softly, looking deeply into green eyes.  “So…”

“So.”

“You soft?”

“I might need some ice.”

“’Kay.”  After a quick squeeze of Miles’ waist, Tris heads to the kitchen to collect some ice.

He grabs a bowl from the cupboard and opens the freezer, shaking his head and trying to stop smiling, knowing that if Miles could see him right now, he’d be calling him a dork.  Affectionately, but still… Pressing out cubes from an ice tray, he takes a deep breath and composes himself again.

He returns to a fully naked Miles posing on the bed, and sets the bowl of ice down.

“You’re fucking gross.”

Miles chuckles and sits up normally.  “So, how’s it work?”

Tristan takes the cage from Miles’ hand and pulls it apart to demonstrate.  “You get your balls through the ring then bend your cock through and put the cage part on, you lock it, and go about your life.”

“Wait, you bend – through –” Miles appears mildly stunned, but still interested.  “Okay.”

“’S why you gotta be soft.”  Tristan sings, pressing gently against Miles’ shoulders to prompt him to lie down.

“And if I get hard in it, it hurts?”

“That all depends on the fit.  This one _should_ just be uncomfortable, but…” Tris sighs.  “Please tell me every little thing, okay?”

“Promise.”

Tris studies him for a moment, then reaches for the bowl of ice.

“Oh, god,” Miles groans, somehow good-naturedly.

“Hey, you don’t have to do this.  It’s okay.”

“No, I know, I want to.”

Tris still looks hesitant.

“You saw my fuckin’ face light up; of _course_ I want to.”

Tristan softens and strokes Miles’ hip.

Miles takes a deep breath and steels himself.  “Alright.  Just do it.”

Tristan presses the ice cube into the shaft of Miles’ cock, eliciting a hiss as Miles clenches his eyes shut. 

“I’m sorry, babe.”  Tristan worries.

“It’s okay.  Fuck.  It’s okay.  Keep going; it’s fine.”  Miles opens his eyes and looks down now, tensing up watching Tristan move the ice swiftly around his cock, avoiding the sensitive head and only briefly moving across his balls when the ice is almost melted.

He grabs the cage and pulls it apart, trying to move quickly to feed Miles’ balls through the ring, watching his lover’s face faintly flinch as his cock is bent and pressed through the tight space remaining.

“Feel okay?”

“Yeah.  New, but fine.”

Tristan fits the cage over Miles’ cock, having to press the two pieces together with mild force, careful not to pinch any skin fastening them.

“Still good?”

“Yeah, it’s fine.  Not – yeah.”

“Not what?”  Tristan frets again.

“Not _painful_ , Tris.  It’s okay.  I’m good.”

Tristan reaches into the drawer for the padlock, keeping the cage pressed closed with his spare hand.  He makes eye contact with Miles again who nods his confirmation, and clicks the lock into place. 

Tristan moves back a little, keeping one hand on Miles’ inner thigh.  “How does it feel?”

“Uh, a little tight, I guess.  Restrictive.  Strangely pretty cool.”

“Okay.  Um, try walking around.”

Miles stands and takes a few steps away from Tristan, biting back a smile at the feeling.

“It’s good.”

“Yeah?  Try stretching.”

“Oh my god, Tris, when do I ever _stretch_?”

“I _just_ – want to make sure you’re comfortable.”

“Mm, you sure you don’t just wanna see your hot, naked fiancé working out?”

“Please?”

Miles licks his lips and raises his hands in surrender.  “Alright.”

He performs some lunges and twists, giving Tristan thumbs-up after each one, making over-enthusiastic comments about the comfort and flexibility of the device.

Tristan pretends to be annoyed as Miles moves on to some squats and finally commences a dramatic move into push-up position.

“ _Okay_ , _okay_.  I’m sorry.”  Tristan laughs, offering Miles a hand up.  “I’m just…”

Miles takes it and stands up, pulling Tristan in close.  “I know, babe.”

“I feel like I was too excited when I saw you; I should have been more gentle and… I’m – I’m sorry.  If you felt pressured or anything –”

“No.”  Miles says abruptly.  “No.  I didn’t.  I never could with you, Tris.  I trust you.  I swear, I’m good with this.”

Tris affectionately touches Miles’ face and kisses him softly.  “There’s a spare key laminated for you in the kitchen for _emergencies_ , but the only key you need to worry about is mine.”

Miles grins.  “God, I’m fucking loving this.”

“Well, see how you sleep tonight.”

“Wait, I’m sleeping in –”

Tristan interrupts.  “Only if you want to.  We’re just testing tonight, okay?”

“Fuck.  Um.  Okay.  Yeah, we’ll see.”

“Hey, maybe sometimes I’ll let you out at bedtime.”  Tristan teases.

“And exactly how long are you planning to do this?”

“Once you’re used to it, we’ll talk.”

“Oh, come on, just tell me.  As long as it’s not forever, I’m good.”

Tristan opens his mouth to speak, then holds back.  “ _If_ you’re okay with it…” He takes on a sudden air of confidence.

“I want a week.”


	2. Day 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> i donated blood today so i might be making a bad decision posting this but here we fuckin GO (p.s. this'll be minimal plot i just wanna see them living together and bein all in love and shit. this is for ME) also i'm gonna aim to post one chapter every day but like it's Not gonna happen lmfao

They’re watching a movie.  Groundhog Day, to be exact.

"I Got You, Babe" is playing.  Phil wakes up and smashes the radio.

Tristan turns to his fiancé, a silent question in his demeanour.

Miles takes a moment to understand what Tristan is asking about, then laughs quietly.  “It’s good; I like it.”

Tristan, amused and incredulous, responds, “Bullshit.” 

Miles just smiles, turning back to the movie.

“You don’t!” Tristan exclaims, as though it were somehow scandalous.

Miles laughs again and pauses the movie.  “It’s… mmm.”  He closes his eyes as he directs his attention to the metal surrounding him, shifting his hips a little.  “It’s good.”

“Well –” Tristan starts.  “But, isn’t it heavy?  And tight?”

“Yeah, but it’s… I –”  Miles shakes his head.  “It’s heavy the way your cock is heavy on my tongue, you know?  And it’s tight in a good way.  It’s hot; it’s comfortable.  I like it.”

“’Tight in a good way.’  Bullshit.  I don’t believe you.”

“Why would I lie?”  Miles asks, amused.

Tristan’s studies his fingers.  “Because you know I want you to be okay with it?”

“Oh, n- no, Tris, it’s not like that.  At all.”

Tristan looks away, chewing at his lip.

Miles rests his hand on Tristan’s leg.  “Hey, Tris, I promised I’d be open with you.”

Tristan sighs.  “Are you _absolutely_ sure you don’t hate this?”

“Hey, look at me.  I promise.”  Miles places a hand on Tristan’s face and guides him into eye contact.  “I _promise_.  Hey, you can even get me hard if you want.”

After a moment, Tristan relaxes.  “No… just… Yeah, I just want you to be okay.”

“And I am.”

“Good.”

Miles leans forward and presses their foreheads together.  Tristan smiles, aware that Miles is only doing so because he knows Tristan’s fondness for such things.

“I love you.”  Tristan whispers.

“I love you too, Tris.”

They stay like that for a moment, just enjoying having each other close, until Miles moves to kiss Tristan.  It’s soft, and frustratingly fleeting, so naturally Tristan chases his lips for more.

They continue kissing, getting deeper and needier as they always did.

Tristan climbs onto Miles’ lap, careful not to grind their hips together but getting more desperate for stimulation with each passing second.

He kisses just the way Miles likes, scratching gently into his hair and sliding a hand down the back of his neck.  Tristan feels his partner kiss him back just the way _he_ likes, holding his waist firmly and letting Tristan set the pace.

Miles quietly moans, and Tristan pulls back, eyes almost solid black, looking only at Miles’ lips.

“Will you suck me off?”

“Fuck yeah,” Miles breathes, keeping one hand on his partner’s side while Tristan shifts off to let Miles move to kneel on the floor.

“You hard?”

“Getting there.”  Miles answers, virtually ripping Tristan’s belt off.

“How’s it feel?”

“Fucking hate it.”

Tristan looks at him, concluding from the twitch at Miles’ lips that he had meant ‘love-hate’, and pulls his jeans and boxers off.

Miles rests both hands on his fiancé’s thighs, having decided to tease him but just now feeling the effect of being half-hard in his cage, closing his eyes to focus on the sensation of the metal trapping him.

“You okay?”  Tristan asks, concerned.

Miles hums, adjusting his hips slightly.  “Yeah.  Just getting used to it.”

“Does it hurt?”

“Nah, just pressure.”  He takes a deep breath and opens his eyes, resolute.  “I’m good, promise.”

“Good.”  Tristan waits a moment, then grips Miles’ hair and pulls him in toward his own cock, already hard and beginning to drip.

Miles recoils, resisting Tristan’s control as an act of rebellion, and instead wraps a hand around the base of his partner’s cock, smirking up at him.

“Cheeky fuck,” Tristan retorts, “I’m gonna have to pound that out of you.”

In response, Miles slowly twists his hand and slides up, tilting his head and watching Tristan’s jaw fall open.

Tristan’s hips rise just a little, and his grip on Miles’ hair tightens.

Miles removes his palm from the equation, only touching Tristan with the tips of his fingers, provocative and taunting.

“I swear to god, if you don’t fucking –”

Before Tristan can finish his sentence, Miles swallows his cock down all at once, prompting a high-pitched moan.

Miles contemplates touching himself, maybe to see how hard he can get, maybe to see how _close_ he can get, but he concludes that he does want to let his fiancé have total control, and wants to just focus on Tristan’s pleasure.

Besides, after that moan he just heard, he is already rock hard and well aware of the consequences.

He draws up Tristan’s cock, sucking lightly and resting his free hand on Tristan’s inner thigh just where he likes it, and swirls his tongue around the head.

Tristan moans again, more deliberate and controlled this time, closing his eyes and tipping his head back, whispering, “Fuck, Miles.”

Miles consciously presses his tongue more firmly along Tristan’s shaft when he pulls up again, briefly wondering if Tristan is planning to be more vocal than usual just to fuck with him.  He decides he doesn’t mind.  He _also_ decides to reciprocate the next time Tristan moans, maybe a hum or a grip at his skin, something to show his fiancé they’re _both_ enjoying the situation.

“Faster, come on,” Tristan breathes.

Miles tries not to smile as he obeys, tightening his mouth a little in the process, earning the release of his hair from Tristan’s hand which moves around to the back of Miles’ neck.

Conveniently, the newfound freedom from Tristan’s grip lends itself to better performance from Miles, who responds with more enthusiasm, twisting and changing up his rhythm.

Tristan loses control a little, pushing up into his fiancé’s mouth.  The brunet is surprised but recovers quickly, reaching up when Tristan apologises breathlessly to give Tristan’s hand a quick squeeze.  Tristan’s eyes open hazily as he checks whether Miles is okay, and Miles slows down for a moment, holding eye contact with Tris to communicate how much he is fucking _loving_ this sweet torture.

He takes all of Tristan in his throat and swallows hard around him, drags his tongue slowly along the underside of his cock before picking up the speed again.

“Everything feels – ” Tristan inhales, “Ten times better when you’re in that.”

The fact that his cock twitches, trapped and futile, seems like his cue to show Tristan he’s definitely still enjoying himself – Miles hums, the vibrations travelling up Tristan’s cock and making the hand on the back of his neck fall to grip at his shoulder.

He pulls Tristan in deeper, sucks harder, and watches Tristan’s breathing become more unsteady.  His pride in his work is reinforced by the look in Tristan’s eyes saying, ‘ _Don't you dare stop._ ’

Miles’ fondness for giving his fiancé pleasure makes sucking Tristan off one of his favourite activities, unfortunately resulting in his own cock trying to get harder, pressing against the metal and making him hyper-aware of how fucking _untouched_ he is.  The unfamiliar confinement distracts him noticeably from his usual zealous focus, his movements stuttering and his breath imperceptibly catching in his throat.

Tristan runs a hand through his own hair now, briefly closing his eyes again as his lips part with a whine suggesting he is getting close.

Miles takes the opportunity to whimper in response as he pulls his wandering hand back down to rest at Tristan’s hip, determined to do his best work for Tristan despite the disruptive limitation of the cage.

He hears Tristan’s moans become more impatient and presses his tongue in again like before, caressing, pulling up further to briefly focus on the underside and flick over the tip before sinking back down to take as much of Tristan in as he can, savouring the sounds his partner makes.

Miles gives him just a hint of the back of his throat and Tristan is coming, pulling at his fiancé’s hair again, bucking his hips up and begging through his moans that Miles doesn’t pull off, doesn’t stop, doesn’t take away his so incredibly _talented_ mouth right now when he needs it most.

The brunet twists and moves his tongue over the underside again, then doing his best to keep Tristan as deep as he can while he waits for a signal to withdraw.

Tristan’s body is still arching, jaw fallen open, looking like he’s luxuriating in possibly the best orgasm of his life.  He knows Miles is treating him well, eager to please and ignoring his cage as well as he can for him.

And Miles knows that Tristan is treating _him_ well, indulging him in his craving for surrendering control, which is, of course, mutually beneficial, and still keeping a part of his drifting mind attentive to whether Miles is comfortable.

When Tristan exhales deeply and tugs gently at Miles’ hair again, Miles pulls off slowly and slides back up his body, just about glowing with honour.

“Holy _shit_ , Miles.”

“Good?” He teases.

“You are fucking sensational and I love you and why aren’t you kissing me?!” Tristan urges.

Miles accommodates the demand without delay, pressing his lips to Tristan’s and resting his hand tenderly on the side of his neck.

Tristan kisses back hungrily, a little exhausted but passionate, trying to reward Miles for his skill and effort.

Miles lets him do so for a moment, appreciating the gesture, but soon breaks the kiss. He presses his forehead to Tristan’s momentarily, before moving to sit beside Tristan, guiding him to lean back against the pillows to bask in his endorphins.

Tristan’s head rolls to look at Miles, eyes tired.  “How are you feeling?”

“On top of the world.” 

Tristan softly chuckles.  “No, really.”

“I feel good, Tris.  I actually really love it.”

“Good, ‘cause I’m way too shattered to get you off right now.”  Tristan’s eyes close for good.

Miles grins and turns the TV off, before picking his sleepy fiancé up and carrying him to bed.


	3. Day 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> none of this is proofread or anything so comment yr concrit if you wanna

Tristan opens the door, bounces through to the kitchen and drops his keys on the counter next to where Miles is making dinner.

“Tonight we’re gonna do something fun.”

“You know, I just _really_ don’t think we are,” Miles quips, glancing up while stirring.  “And ‘hello’ to you too, darling.”

“Don’t be dramatic; you’re gonna love it.”

“ _Am_ I, though?”

“I know so.”  Tristan hops up onto the counter and sits watching Miles.  “Guess.”

“We’re gonna go ice skating.”

“No,” Tristan coaxes.

“We’re gonna buy new furniture online!”  Miles exclaims playfully.

“No, asshole, it’s fucking sexual, come on.”

“Alright, we’re gonna… we’re gonna fuck but you’re gonna leave me in the cage.”

“Not even close.”

“Pass.”

“We, are gonna watch a movie.”

Miles sets his utensil down to search through a cupboard, amused.  “A movie or a porno?”

“Just a movie.”

“And you’re gonna… make me suck you off?”

“No…” Tristan hints.

“I literall– Tristan, there are a _thousand_ things this could be.”  Miles laughs, retrieving the spice he was looking for and sets it down beside the pan.

“I don’t know about a _thousand_ , but...”

“Oh my god, just _tell_ me.”

“If you guess right, you get a kiss,” Tristan sings.

Miles lunges forward and steals Tristan’s lips.

“You mischievous brat!” Tristan squeals, tugging Miles toward him by his hips and pulling him into another, longer kiss.

Miles is the one to break the kiss, pulling back to stir the food.  “You’re gonna edge me for the whole damn movie, and cage me back up, and then laugh at me for begging you not to.”

“Bingo.”

“You look mighty proud of yourself,” Miles laughs.

“You’re gonna love it.”  Tristan reiterates, arm still wrapped around Miles’ waist.

“Mmm, but it’s been a while.  Since last time.”

“And?”

“And, I don’t exactly have that much _control_ after today.”

“It’s been, what, forty-eight hours?  You’ve never been that long without jerking off?”

Miles smiles at Tristan’s teasing.  “I have, but not with a heavy cage constantly _reminding_ me.”

“Tell you what, we’ll just watch an episode of something instead.”

“New Girl?”

“Oh, don’t think I’m gonna fall for that.  Something longer.  Maybe Orange?”

“You think I can get hard watching that show after what they did to Poussey?  Think again.”

“Who says I want you getting hard from the _show_?”

Miles just looks at Tristan for a moment and laughs, adding some of the spice to the pan.

“Look, I’ll go easy on you, okay?  How about… Pushing Daisies?”

“Alright, sounds good.  You hungry?”

“Yeah.”  Tristan squeezes Miles’ hip before standing to retrieve plates.

 

* * *

 

Miles settles back into Tristan’s body and pulls the laptop closer.

“I am _so_ not ready for this.”

“Yeah you are.  Here we go.”

Tristan unlocks the cage, setting the key down on the table beside them, before pulling the cage piece off, leaving the ring in place.

“How does it feel?”

Miles exhales lengthily.  “Feels like I can’t believe I survived this.”

“Okay, _Bella Swan_ , chill out; it can’t be that bad.”

Miles turns to face Tristan, pouting.

Tristan laughs softly, and squeezes Miles’ hip.  “Love you.”

Miles’ face melts back into a contented smile.  “I know.”

Tristan smiles back for a moment, lulling Miles into a false sense of security, then grips Miles’ cock at the base and swipes a thumb over the tip.

Miles’ breath hitches and he gives a breathless laugh, turning back to the screen.

“No fair; we haven’t started yet.”

Tristan hums and reaches forward to trail his fingertips up the insides of Miles’ thighs, whispering, “Then press play.”

Miles complies and settles back into Tristan’s chest.

Tristan starts slow, still teasing around Miles’ thighs and stomach, tracing little waves and circles.

Miles tries subtly shifting, hoping to get Tristan’s warm fingertips closer, but they just stray further in response.

He accepts his predicament, and tries to focus on the episode.

Chuck has created a new pie recipe.  She feeds Ned a forkful, and he smiles brightly.

Fuck, God, _Tristan_.

He’s so good at that.

There’s no chance Miles can pay an ounce of attention to the episode.  It’s a little unfortunate, but he figures he can rewatch later.  Although, he’s fairly sure Tristan’s not exactly immersed in it either.

Miles closes his eyes, feeling Tristan on his skin, taking his time.

 _God_.  He’d much prefer being on the edge to this torment.  At least Tris would be _touching_ him, not provoking him.

“Please, Tris.”

“Shh.  You know it’s up to me tonight.”

“ _Please._ ”

“No more talking, I’m trying to watch.”

Miles can hear the smirk in his voice.

He can also feel the hardening cock pressing into his lower back. 

He _knows_ his fiancé isn’t really enthralled by Pushing Daisies _,_ of all shows.  No, Tristan wouldn’t be able to maintain such infuriating touches if he weren’t paying attention to his exact movements, curating the dissatisfaction like an art form.

Fine.  Miles can be sly too.

He decides to shake things up a little, cunningly lifting a hand to rest on Tristan’s forearm.

“None of that, babe,” Tristan’s tone is playful, but he still removes Miles’ hand from his arm.  He leans in closer to whisper in Miles’ ear.  “You’re mine to touch; I’m not yours.”

Miles grumbles, forbidden from speaking but still trying to hurry Tristan, not in the mood to act cool and collected right now.

Tristan just wraps his arms around Miles’ stomach and presses a kiss into his neck.

Fighting the instinct to cover Tristan’s arms with his own, Miles settles again.

Tristan, approvingly, resumes ghosting his fingertips all over Miles’ skin, occasionally dipping down a little closer to where Miles wants them to be, riling him up, getting his heart racing.

Miles is frenzied, crazed.  More frustrated than he thinks he’s ever been in his life, he’s about to lose control, gripping the fabric of the couch to refrain from gripping himself, or at least some part of Tristan.

Finally – fuck – _finally_ – Tristan’s palm is brushing against Miles’ cock.

He manages not to buck his hips up, knowing Tristan would definitely not repeat the touch if he did.

God, no it’s not, it’s _not_ brushing against his cock.  It _did_ brush.  For just one heavenly, hellish instant.  Tristan has dropped his hands back to Miles’ hip bones, caressing in place with the tips of his fingers.

Miles resorts to biting his tongue and tensing his abdomen, not wanting to make a sound but knowing Tristan will get one out of him soon.  That’s what he wants. It’s probably _all_ he wants before he starts –

But Miles isn’t going to let Tristan win that easily.  He can barely breathe, but he wants to prove to himself that he has some level of command over his body.  After all, a week of this is going to require some extreme self-control.

God, his cock is aching.

He closes his eyes again and attempts to focus on the fabric between his fingers.

But there it is again, the hint of skin on his cock sending white-hot desperation through him, and he can’t hold back a cut-off hum.

“Feel good?”

Miles almost answers with words, but Tristan’s doing it again and he can’t speak, thank god. 

He’s softly wrapping his hand around the base, fucking –

No, he’s pulled away _again_.

Miles’ breath stutters.  Everything’s so fucking irritating; the dialogue coming from his screen over Tristan’s refusal to put his dexterity to good use…

He lifts his hips with a muted whine, unable to help himself.

And again, Tristan’s fingertips skate further away.

 _This_ is teasing.  Tristan’s never done it quite like this before; usually when he cracks and lets Miles have the touches he wants, he doesn’t goddamn _stop_ like that.

Miles had thought having the cage on was difficult, but if having it off was going to be like this…

Tristan strokes up his cock.

Miles yelps, not quite able to stop his body jerking up into the touch, chasing unsuccessfully.

Of course, now Tristan’s pulled off and removed both hands from his body entirely so that the only point of contact between them is through Miles’ spine.

Miles situates his hips back in place, nails digging so hard into the couch that a fleeting part of his mind wonders if he’ll notice any damage to the furniture later.

Tristan strokes again, a swift pull that ends far too soon.

Miles’ mind basically shorts out; all he can process is the movement of Tristan’s hand.

And he does it again, he pulls at his cock and doesn’t stop this time, he doesn’t stop, he comes back down to the base and pulls up again, fucking phenomenal pleasure and Miles has never felt anything like this, he’s about to…

“Stopstopstop –” he urges, grabbing Tristan’s wrist and wrenching him off.

He feels a sharp pain in his neck, must be Tristan’s teeth, and the hand pulls away from his grasp and returns to rest on his opposite thigh, parallel to the other.

“Sorry,” Miles pants.  “I’m sorry, I'm sorry, I’ll be good.”

“You know the rules, babe.  No touching, no talking.  You tell me with your body.”

“I know.”  He takes another steadying breath.  “Okay, I’m good.”

Tristan resumes pulling at Miles’ cock, slowly and gently, and his hand is _wet_ now, and Miles doesn’t know when that happened but it’s fucking _hot_ and it feels amazing and he can’t think anything other than ‘fuck’.

_“The facts were these…”_

It’s delicious.  He can’t exactly breathe, but he doesn’t care because it’s delicious, he’s _delirious_.

Tristan begins mouthing at Miles’ neck where he had bitten, and Miles would wonder if he’s ever felt a touch so gentle if he could think anything other than _don’t cum don’t cum don’t cum_. 

His hand slows down on Miles’ cock just enough for his attention to loosely drift back to the dialogue of the show.

_“When ingested, the herbs were known to cause an uncomfortable fullness of the bladder.”_

Oh, perfect.  Just perfect.  He’s lucky his cock doesn’t twitch at the mention of fullness.

As if Tristan knows Miles’ attention had managed to capture something sufficiently associable with one of his favourite kinks, Tristan halts.

Miles is almost relieved.

But not really.

Tristan’s hands start exploring Miles’ body, drawing around from his stomach to his waist, up his back to his shoulders.

The brunet swallows and takes a deep breath in, confident that he can now fill his bloodstream with more oxygen without losing control.

Tristan follows the curves of his arms, down to his hands, nudging Miles’ fingers with his own until his fists relax, and he can curl their hands together.

Miles wishes he could think of the affection more as an expression of love and less as a brief release from the divine suffering of the past half hour, but his breath is still evening out and most of his muscles seem to have forgotten how to loosen up.

He feels lips at the back of his neck again.

“I’m so proud of you, honey.”

Again, Miles wants to be glowing from the praise, but can’t help but worry that maybe… he won’t be able to handle a whole week of this.

But he wants to, he frantically wants to give Tristan what he asked for, he wants to be good and show him he can do it, show him he _wants_ to do it, but he feels like he’s getting too weak already, and he can’t say anything, he can’t even wordlessly burrow into him to show him how fucking desperate he is to stop for the night.

Already Tristan’s fingers are untangling from Miles’, inching inward from his hips, and even though the credits are rolling Miles knows Tristan’s going to make him miserable in the little time he has left.

“Just a few more seconds, okay?”

Miles whines, but doesn’t argue.

Tristan grips his cock with both hands and begins to tug, pulling off and gripping the base again while the other makes its way up, not letting any of Miles’ cock go untouched.

Miles swears he’s ripping the fabric of the couch apart at this point, tensing every part of him and barely remembering to breathe.

One of Tristan’s hands disappears momentarily, he must be wetting it again, and there it is, it returns, slick and smooth, mixing with the _need_ leaking from Miles’ cock.

Tristan increases his pace just a little more and starts twisting his wrists at the head, making sure to thumb at the slit every few strokes.

At one particularly tight pull, Miles jolts forward and moans in a somehow warning tone.

Tristan slows down, but not nearly enough.

Miles whimpers as he tries his hardest not to buck into Tristan’s grip, praying for the credits to end, he can’t, he _can’t_.

Tristan squeezes again, and Miles’ breath hitches, god, he’s so close, he can’t fucking –

He exhales.

Tristan has stopped.  It’s over.

Miles pants, closing his eyes.

Tristan just gently holds Miles at his hips, letting him cool down, not trying to stimulate him any further, not even praising him yet.

Miles is grateful.

Well, not really.

He still desperately needs to cum. God, _desperately_.  But at least he can breathe now.

He has half a mind to call it off; he can’t even cope with a half hour of teasing, how is he going to –

Oh, but Tristan’s thumbs now gently rubbing into his sides, the angelic pressure on his skin soothing him, showing him how much love is there, _that’s_ how he’s going to.


	4. Day 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> i've outdone myself, but in a bad way

“Hey, honey,” Tristan calls to Miles as he walks through the door.

“Hey, babe.”  Miles responds, a little solemnly, walking over to press a kiss to Tristan’s hairline before collapsing on the couch next to his fiancé, burying his head in Tristan’s shoulder.

“Bad day?”  Tristan asks, placing his script down.

“No, just missed you.”

“Aw.  Well, I’m all yours now.”  Tristan curls his fingers into Miles’ shirt.

Miles hums and basks in the touch, even through the fabric.

“Um, hey, I was thinking we’d order in tonight?  I’m just feeling a little drained.”

“Sure, you okay?”  Miles looks up, checking in.

“Yeah, just tired.  I’ll cook tomorrow, yeah?”

“No, it’s fine, I don’t mind take-out.”  Miles’ voice is as soft as his eyes.

Tristan just smiles and holds the brunet closer as they huddle together, both closing their eyes.

“What are you thinking?”  Tristan asks.

“Just how much I love you.”

“Oh.  Well, I meant food, but that’s cool too.”

Miles chuckles and sits up.  “Aren’t you gonna tell me you love me too?”

Tristan smirks.

He slowly climbs into Miles’ lap to straddle him, and kisses him deeply.

“I love you too, Miles.”

Miles grins, looking into Tristan’s eyes, and springs forward to kiss Tristan again, securing a firm hold on his waist.

Tristan kisses back, almost hungrily, gripping Miles’ hair with one hand and his neck with the other.

“Thought you were tired.”  Miles teases.

“I may have conserved some energy for… something.”

“Something?”

“I have a plan.”

Miles bites his lip, already feeling stirrings in his cock.  “Care to enlighten me?”

“You’ve been so good these past few days…”

“Mm?”

“And I wanna give you some relief…”

“I like the sound of that.”

“You wanna order food before or after?”

“That, depends on a lot of factors.  Why don’t you –” he squeezes Tristan’s side, “pick some food, and then tell me your plan.”

“Pizza.  And… no.”  Tristan grins.

“And why not?”  Miles wraps his arms around Tristan’s waist.

“Because it’s a surprise.”

“Why is it a surprise?”

“Because I want it to be,”  Tristan responds.

Miles loves it when Tristan has a glint in his eye.

 

* * *

 

“That too tight?”

“Nope, perfect.”

Tristan drops a kiss onto Miles’ side, moving to secure his ankles. “You know, I’m actually super excited about this.”

“Why’s that?”

“We’ve just never done this before.  Or, not… exactly like this.”

“Uh.”  Miles stutters, almost trying to sit up.  “Wh- can you… tell me what we’re doing?  Like, if it’s new?”

Tristan hurries to reassure him, placing a hand on his face.  “No – I – it’s not new; we just haven’t done it for this long before.  You’ll like it.  It’ll be familiar, don’t worry.”

Miles settles.

Tristan finishes fastening Miles’ ankles down and moves back up to kiss him slowly.

Miles relaxes into Tristan’s touch, only faintly aware of his inability to touch Tristan back.

Suddenly there are soft fingers caressing his skin through his cage, and he’s wondering why Tristan hasn’t taken it off yet.

He’s wondering what the _fuck_ Tristan’s about to do to him.

And he feels himself getting hard, or trying to, and it’s like picking up exactly where they left off yesterday, sheer desperation almost overcoming him like a goddamned tidal wave.

Tristan breaks the kiss, which at some point must have begun to pacify him, make the taunting touches easier to bear, because without his lips Miles almost wanted to cry.

“Feel good?”

“Not enough,” Miles mumbles, already barely able to speak, needing nothing but _more_.

“Slow down, honey, that’s not what we’re doing today.”

Tristan takes his fingers away.

Miles whimpers.

“Aw, sweetie, I think you’re in for a bit of a wild ride.”

Miles hears Tristan moving away from him, opening a drawer – oh, god.

He hasn’t felt this yet.  Not with the cage on.

He tenses up, before he even hears the click of the lube bottle opening he tenses up because he has no idea how he’s going to get through this. He can just imagine it now, thrashing around, keening, feeling like he’s about to scream.

“I’ll be good to you, honey.  Don’t worry.”

Tristan must have caught a sign of how Miles felt, must have seen his fists curled tightly.

“I’m not edging you tonight.”

Miles is surprised to find that he’s still getting harder, despite knowing this was going to be agony.

“You ready?”

Miles takes a deep breath and nods.

At least he’s not blindfolded.  Sure, his mind isn’t processing much of what he can see anyway, but at least he’s not blindfolded.

Fuck.

Alright.

Tristan’s touching his hole, gently, one lubed finger massaging him, coaxing him into relaxation.

He can feel all his muscles gradually loosen up, even his jaw, even his stomach desperate to chase pleasure, his cock is still on edge but he’s mostly just… _relaxed_.

Tristan hums quietly, approvingly, and applies a little pressure.  “How you feeling, honey?”

“Gooooooood.”

Tristan gives one of those soft sweet laughs he does, proud of how quickly he can put Miles at ease.

“I’m gonna press in now, okay?”

Miles purrs, glad Tristan’s going so slow with him, telling him what he’s doing.

He feels a finger slide in effortlessly, feels Tristan go straight for his prostate, the unexpected burst of _yesyesyes_ making him suck in a breath of what feels like incredibly heavy air.

Tristan slides back out halfway, then back in to press into the spot again.

Miles feels his cock twitch this time, tries to roll his hips but doesn’t have much ability to move.

And out, and in.

He can feel the heat coming back, the _need_ and the _please god more_.

“Can you take more?”

“Yes, yes.”  Miles responds instantly, frantically.

Tristan pulls out, snaps open the lube again and presses back over Miles’ hole.

Two fingers slide in this time, igniting all his nerves.

Again, Tristan goes directly for Miles’ prostate, starting to massage it more firmly.

Miles feels his cock straining through the cage, and it’s tight, it’s so tight on him, but part of him loves the intensity.

He fleetingly considers that maybe he shouldn’t embrace that just yet, recalling what Tristan said about how whatever they were going to do was going to take a long time, or whatever he said, god he can’t remember any of the hints anymore…

He’ll just have to – oh, he’s dripping.

Onto his stomach.

He’s dripping and he knows it’s his cock begging, pleading to be touched.

Is this what Tristan wanted?

This had a name, didn’t it?  Something that sounded innocuous…

Tristan starts pressing in faster.

Miles’ breath catches in his throat and he lets out some kind of high-pitched moan.

Instinctively his hands try to come down, try to grip onto Tristan, or his caged cock, or something, anything; touch means so much to him, he _needs_ it, but the bonds are firmly fastened and he has to settle for scratching into the bedsheets.

Tristan is relentless.

It’s too much, and still not enough, and it’s sinful and it’s pure and it’s only been, what, three minutes?  Less?

He whines, fighting with his restraints again.

“Oh, sweetie, I know.”  Tristan rubs his free hand into Miles’ side intending to soothe him.

Somehow, it does the opposite.

Miles’ cock is leaking rapidly now, he’s dripping all over himself and the cage, trying to rock back and forth with Tristan’s motions.

It’s a little humiliating; it’s like Tristan can _see_ how desperate he is.  He can _quantify_ it.

Miles swears his cock just needs one touch at this point, just _one_ touch.

Well, he’s lying to himself, he can’t quite get hard enough to cum.  But right now it feels like he could.

“Tris…” he trails off.

“You okay?”

“How much longer?”  Miles groans, his body feeling fatigued and lit up all at the same time.

“Until you’re done, honey.” Tristan responds simply.

“I don’t know how long that is,” Miles complains, pulling at his restraints.

“Just be patient.  You’re doing well.”

The brunet just grumbles, attempting to pull his body away from Tristan’s persistent fingers.

 _Just be patient._  That’s so much easier said than done.

Somehow Tristan manages to press in harder, and all the sounds Miles can make are choked gasps as the fingers force more fluid out.

“There we go,” Tristan praises.

Miles bites his lip, tightening his fists in the sheets as he begins to feel himself sweat.

“I can’t…” he tries, barely enunciating. “Tris, please.”

“You’re okay, angel. Be patient.” He repeats smoothly.

And Miles tries, he really tries to settle and take it and summon up all his endurance but he can’t shake the thought that he’ll just never stop dripping, he’ll never be done, Tristan will never be done.

It feels like fire licking up his spine, heat all through his stomach, he needs to cum, he needs it, he’s never needed it so bad before.

So of course, Tristan finds a way to intensify everything.

His free hand moves down to massage his balls, far too tender and sensitive for this, and Miles thrashes, trying his best to get away from the overwhelming sensations.

All he achieves is more milky fluid collecting on his stomach.

He feels completely powerless, trapped like this. Usually he adores it, worships it even. Usually it’s just exhilarating to give up his body because usually Tristan _doesn’t fucking do this_ , he doesn’t fucking torture him for god knows how long with no promise of release.

Tristan continues to hammer his prostate, finding different angles of pleasure-pain to chase out more fluid, new ways to coax Miles’ stamina out of his body, new ways to leave him feeling aching and empty.

He knows, he knows he could safeword out and get what he wants, but… he also _doesn’t_ want to get what he wants because Tristan doesn’t want that.  He wants what Tristan wants.

So he suffers.

For Tristan.

And he kinda fucking loves it.

Vulnerable, fucked out, writhing, unable to relieve his neglected cock, but Tristan is proud of him.

And part of him knows that the harder he goes with this, the bigger his reward will be.


	5. Day 4

Collapsing into bed together, Tristan asks, “You want me to let you out tonight?”

Miles thinks for a moment, eyes already closed, and says, “Mm, no, I’m okay.  Too tired to do anything anyway.”

“Same.  Zoë’s fucking exhausting, huh?”

Miles smiles, and pulls the comforter further up.  “We love her, though.”

“Yeah.  Um, hey…” Tristan starts.

“What’s up?” Miles mumbles, too sleepy to open his eyes.

“Were you okay, tonight?  At the bar?”

Miles takes a deep breath and shifts over to curl into his fiancé.  “When I have you looking out for me, I’m fine.”

“That sounds a little toxic…”  Tristan frets.

Miles laughs quietly.  “Tris, look, just because I _could_ live without you, doesn’t mean I would ever want to.”

Tristan softly scratches into Miles’ hair and kisses his forehead briefly.

They settle into a peaceful sleep.

 

* * *

 

 

Miles wakes to a bright sunrise coming through their window.

He rolls out of bed to shut the blinds and turns back to the bed, to find that Tristan isn’t there.

He hadn’t heard him leave.  Or felt him leave.  It’s a little unusual for Tristan to be up early unless he has a call time to make.

Slightly concerned but mostly annoyed, he traipses out to the kitchen, to see Tristan managing the miraculous feat of chopping bell peppers entirely silently.

Miles takes in his fiancé’s appearance; dressed in a grey t-shirt and blue plaid boxers.

“Oh, I’m sorry, babe, I tried not to wake you before your alarm.”

The brunet scratches the back of his neck as he walks over to kiss his fiancé.  “You didn’t.”

Tristan reaches across the counter and switches on the Keurig.

Miles sighs contentedly, pressing his body into Tristan’s back and leaning his head against Tristan’s, inhaling his sweet vanilla scent.

“Whatcha makin’?”

“Omelette.  You want one?”

“Mm, I’d love one.”

Miles presses another kiss to Tristan’s cheek and moves over to collect some mugs from a cabinet.

“You sleep well?”  Tristan asks, glancing up at Miles.

“Yeah.  You?”

“Not enough, but yeah.”

The brunet comes back over to rest against Tristan’s body.  “Should’ve left earlier, huh?”

“Oh, but we couldn’t; it was her birthday!”  Tristan stresses.

Miles smiles and glances at the clock on the oven; his alarm is due to go off any second.

He shuffles back to the bedroom, still yawning, and decides to get dressed while he’s there.

His phone sings just as he slides his shoes on, and he walks out to the kitchen checking his notifications.

“Aw, we made it onto Zoë’s Instagram.”  Miles flicks through the photoset.

“Oh, Jesus.  She won’t be happy when my fans start complimenting me instead of her.”  Tristan winces, sliding Miles’ coffee over to him and taking a sip of his own.

“You know, I wish I could pretend you just have a big ego but that’s definitely what’s going to happen.”

They laugh together as Tristan pours omelette batter into a hot pan and turns toward Miles, setting down the bowl.

“So how you feeling?”  Tristan glances purposefully downward, biting his lip, hinting.

Miles smirks.  “Glad I got away without any torture yesterday.”

Tristan scoffs, faking indignation.  “I’ll have you know my touch is a privilege and an occasion!”

Miles presses his lips to his fiancé’s and whispers,  “I know.”

Tristan smiles as he continues the kiss, eager to pull their bodies closer.

Miles responds with a soft moan, trying not to think about Tristan’s cock being so close to his own caged one.

Tristan slowly pushes Miles back against the nearby refrigerator and whispers onto his mouth, “I think I’ll have to find a way to make it doubly difficult tonight.”

Swallowing hard, Miles stammers, “P-please don’t.”

Tristan hums, a teasing smile on his lips as he looks down at Miles’ for a moment.  He gives Miles one more peck and turns back to flip the omelette, leaving Miles to recollect himself.


	6. Day 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> last chapter for a bit lol / concrit and nitpick encouraged as always

Miles walks in, having taken on the powerful, commanding tone of a comic book superhero.  “Babe, I wanna suck you off.”

“Hi, honey, how was your day?”  Tristan teases, taking off an oven mitt as he watches Miles close the door behind him.

“It sucked because I kept wanting to blow you.  You good?”

Tristan pauses, a little confused.

“I – I mean, yeah, but are you okay?”

“Yes, babe, I’m okay, it’s just this stupid cage getting me all…”

Tristan looks concerned, stepping forward to brush hair out of Miles’ face.

“… Getting me all riled-up thinking about you.”

Tristan softens.  “Well, in that case, I would _love_ for you to suck me off.  Later, though.  I’m not done with the veggies.”

Miles grumbles a little, leaning into Tristan and pressing his forehead into the side of Tristan’s.  “Lemme help, then.”

“No, handsome, I’ve got it,”  Tristan warns playfully.  “It’s my night and I already bailed once this week.”

“But I wanna!”  Miles whinges, putting on a childish voice.

“Tonight, this kitchen is my turf.”  Tristan pretends to brandish a spatula at his fiancé.

Miles wraps his arms around Tristan’s waist and kisses his temple before whispering into his ear, “I just wanna make you feel good.”

Tristan just about shivers.  “You’re lucky I didn’t have anything planned for tonight so you get to have your way.”

Miles grins and peppers more kisses along his jaw, laughing when Tristan pretends to try to move away.  He slides his arms off of Tristan and trails down one of his arms, squeezing his free hand.  “Sure I can’t do anything?”

“Yes, cutie.  Why don’t you go get some work done – or call Frankie?  I’m sure she’d love to hear your voice.”

“Don’t _you_ love my voice just as much?”

Tristan scoffs.  “Stop being cocky and do something productive; I need to focus.”

Miles steps in front of Tristan and frames his face with both hands, kissing his lips this time.  The kiss is sweet and gentle, and Tristan has only just started to melt into it when Miles steps back, briefly squeezes at Tristan’s shoulder, and walks out of the kitchen.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Miles stands up to clear their plates, feeling Tristan’s eyes on him, fighting the urge to smirk.

He knows his fiancé won’t have been able to stop thinking about what Miles said he wanted.

He hadn’t been able to stop thinking about it either.

Placing the dishes into the dishwasher, he turns to Tristan.

“Thank you, baby.”

“You’re welcome, honey.”

“So can we go to bed now?”

Tristan laughs.  “You’ve really got a one-track mind, haven’t you?”  Still, he stands and takes Miles’ hand, heading back to their bedroom.

Once there, Miles guides Tristan onto the bed, kissing him back against the pillows.

He slides a hand down Tristan’s side, the other pressed against the headboard.

Once he reaches Tristan’s hips, he pulls Tristan’s jeans down, gentle fingertips hooking into the waistband.

He gently presses on Tristan’s cock through his boxers, watching his chest rise and fall a little faster than before, his jaw falling open slightly.

Miles grips a little firmer, smiling when Tristan lets out a soft moan.

He repeats the process with Tristan’s underwear, dragging them down slowly, knowing without a doubt that Tristan’s heart is beating faster every second.

Wrapping his hand easily around Tristan’s silky-smooth cock, Miles looks up at Tristan with an expression almost peaceful.

This is what he had wanted all day, and now that he has it he is so _comfortable,_ loving the weight of Tristan’s cock in his hand.  He's only barely aware of his own, the pressure, the desperate strain.  He's almost forgotten how to feel need.

He pulls up and down, slowly, trying to make it pleasurable but lasting.

He lays a kiss on Tristan’s hip, using his spare hand to stroke at the same point on the opposite side.  He glances up at the sound of Tristan laughing quietly, breathlessly.  Miles is, expectedly, proud of himself.

Miles wonders if maybe he’s in control; maybe Tristan _heard_ him, heard that he wanted this, and might be letting Miles take it at his preferred pace…

Or maybe Tristan just wants it slow tonight.

Regardless, Miles thinks it’s about time to add his other hand into the equation.

Twisting his hands with (what he hopes feels like) skill, he notes the way Tristan’s body seems to be totally relaxed for him, his eyes closed and fingertips gently curling into the sheets.

Tristan gives another composed moan, slightly louder than the last time, rolling his hips into Miles’ touch.

Miles can’t help thinking, as he often does, how everything Tristan does is so smooth; he makes every movement look effortless and polished, coats every sound in sugar.

That is, until Miles gets him close enough to let go.

He wraps his mouth around Tristan’s cock, earning himself a “ _fuck_ ” and a hand woven in his hair, pulling just the perfect amount for Miles to still be thoroughly enjoying himself.

Miles latches onto the tip with purpose and sucks, wanting nothing more than to swallow the rest of him but holding back, hoping that taking it slower will result in Tristan’s voice faltering at some point tonight.

This is because, as Miles likes to see it, it's just a little unfair that he's _always_ the one crying out, wrecked and overloaded.

He works his hands and his mouth around Tristan slowly, tongue teasing over the slit and fingers working in new patterns.  He looks up at his lover, pleased to see his jaw lax, blissed out, gradually losing his grip on Miles’ hair.

This is exactly why the entire day he was craving sucking Tristan off.  It had been too long since the last time they were naked together, calm and comfortable like this, Miles hard at work providing warmth and pleasure.

He removes one hand to take more of Tristan in, moving to caress his thigh.

Tristan _purrs_.

At every upward pull he uses his tongue to flicker and explore, loving that it makes Tristan throw his head back, lost in the heat and ecstasy.

Tristan still breathes hard and shaky, relishing in what Miles is doing to his cock.

He seems unable to stay still, gripping at the sheets, at Miles' neck, at his hair, at his own thighs.

Miles is still not sure whether Tristan is intentionally not instructing him in favour of letting him take the lead; he just continues on, determined to draw more delightful sounds out of Tristan’s mouth.

He twists, licks, squeezes, sucks, switching it up every way he can think of to his heart’s content.

Then, Miles decides it’s time to swallow him down.

Tristan yelps, bites his lip, inhales sharply.

Miles does his best to keep his throat from fighting back, stopping his movement for a second to relax.

Meanwhile, he can’t help making eye contact.

Seeing Tristan’s eyes watching him, a little unfocused and blown black, feels so right.

When he’s ready, he continues sucking up and down, feeling all Tristan’s gasps and moans go straight to his own cock.

“Ngh, no, I can’t –”  Tristan starts, bucking his hips up.

Miles pulls off, anxious.

“Oh, no, no, I meant – no, keep going, fuck, keep going,”  Tristan pleads.  “Keep g…”

Miles does as he’s told, pushing Tristan to the back of his throat again.

Soon enough, he sees Tristan’s back arch under him, tastes salty warmth down his tongue.

Tristan’s hand is resting on the nape of Miles’ neck, pulling him down, begging through his broken sounds for him to keep moving around him.

Miles finally gets that vivid rush of gratification, that unique feeling he always gets when he tips Tristan over the edge.

His beloved prize.


	7. Day 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> leigh strikes again with the unbearable consent dialogue

“You’re gonna ride me.”

Miles involuntarily smirks; those are four words he would always be happy to hear.

“Yeah?  Cage on, I assume?”

“Of course,”  Tristan flirts.  “Think you can handle it?”

The brunet steps closer to his fiancé, a challenge in his eyes. “I’m gonna fuck you better than I ever have.”

Tristan stifles a laugh.

“What?”

“Isn’t that, like, the _opposite_ of a brag?”

Miles thinks for a second, squinting a little.  “I stand by my statement.”

Tristan grins.  “Well, good.  ‘Cause I can’t wait to be inside you.”

Miles damn near shivers as he watches Tristan glide over to the bedroom.

 

 

Tristan pushes Miles back on the bed, a little rough, guiding his legs apart with one hand.

Miles shifts further up against the pillows, feeling himself getting hard already.

“You’re not gonna milk me again, are you?”

“Not tonight.”

“Fucking hated that shit.”

“Did you?”  Tristan smiles.  “I’ll make a mental note.”

Miles almost makes a weak joke about Tristan’s imperfect memory, but decides against it, even though he’s fairly sure Tris wouldn’t mind.

“So, since it’s your last night, I wanna make it good for you – but not too good.”

Tristan grins over his shoulder at Miles as he removes his shirt and jeans.

And Miles has no idea why he says what he says; he’s barely aware that he’s speaking until it’s done.

“I wanna go a month.”

Tristan pauses.

He takes Miles’ hand and perches on the bed, pulling the brunet to sit up with him.

“Are you sure that’s something you want?”

“Yeah, I can do it.”  Miles’ voice is soft against Tristan’s concern.

Though they’re already facing each other, Tristan guides Miles’ face toward him, more as a symbolic gesture.

Miles knows he’s going to argue and tell him that’s not something he’s expected to do.  He knows, but he still… he still can’t shake the strange feeling that he kinda fucking loves it.  Trapped, trusted to stay trapped.  Today he didn’t even take the key with him to work.

“No more than that, but I think… Tris, I’ve had so much _fun_ these past few days.  I – I don’t want to give up when I know I can do better.”

Tristan sighs.  “I don’t know, Miles – this isn’t something that I want to go on forever.”

“I – no, I know.  Just a month.  That’s all.  It’s… a challenge. And you _know_ I’ve loved it so far.  I wanna see if I can make it.”

“We’ll talk after this, okay?”  Tristan’s silvery voice feels like it’s dripping down Miles’ spine.

Miles gives a grateful smile, glad he hasn’t obstructed the night’s activities.  “Deal.”

He rips off his own shirt and lies back down, eager to get started.

Tristan resituates himself between Miles’ legs and takes his sweet time pulling the zipper of Miles’ pants down, teasing with playful fingertips at the skin just above.

Miles is patient, dark eyes dancing between Tristan’s hands and his coy expression.

Tristan finally hooks his fingers under the fabric, pulling, tempting.

But the brunet won’t be tempted.  He smirks, defiant.

Finally – god, everything feels like ‘finally’ these days – Tristan slides the fabric all the way off and tosses it aside.

“You know how much I’d love to tie you up, but I want you on top tonight.”

Miles hums, sliding his wrists behind the bars on the headboard.

“Close enough, huh?”

Tristan shoots him a smile as he leans over to rummage through the bedside drawer.

“For now, I think you can have your hands on me as much as you like.”

Miles brings his hands back down to rest on Tristan’s hips, delighted.

Having permission to touch Tristan while they’re in this dynamic is one of life’s greatest pleasures for Miles. So often he’s tied or handcuffed – or he’s just told not to touch, which is even harder.

He circles his thumbs on Tristan’s waist, of half a mind to grip at Tristan’s dick, but knowing that doing so would get his freedom revoked.

 _‘As much as you like’_ didn’t really mean that.  Not in this context.

He feels a stroke of Tristan’s lubed finger, then nothing.

Miles waits.

Tristan places his spare hand on Miles’ abdomen.

Miles keeps waiting.

Tristan makes eye contact with him, challenging.

Miles sighs.  “So are you gonna take forever with this part or get to the good shit?”

“I’m letting you touch me and you think you get to ask for more?”  Tristan faux-reprimands.  “You know I like to take my sweet time stretching you.”

“So how about you _start_ doing that?”

In response, Tristan slides two lubed fingers inside Miles, drawing a yelp from the brunet.

“What the fuck?”  He laughs, craning his neck to get a better look.

“I know you can take it.”

Miles shifts his hands from Tristan’s hips to the small of his back, pulling him just a little closer.

“Well, I guess I _was_ asking for it.”

Tristan works him open smoothly, watching Miles’ face with a sort of soothing curiosity.

It’s clear that Tristan’s intentionally avoiding his prostate – he and Tristan have done this more than enough over the years for him to know exactly where to find it.  Miles thinks better of angling himself to catch Tristan’s fingers – after all, tonight is probably going to be just as difficult as every other night has been.

The next intrusion is effortless; Miles closes his eyes and relaxes while Tristan moves inside him, preparing him, trying and failing not to think about what for.

Suddenly Tristan curls his fingers and Miles’ back curves in pleasure, he writhes in pleasure, it was just so goddamn _pleasurable_ and all just because Tristan took so long.

But, of course, he pulls out immediately after.

While Miles copes with the loss of Tristan’s wonderful fingers, he sinks back down on the bed, releasing the grip he hadn’t realised he’d made on Tristan’s hips.

He’s still catching his breath when Tristan grabs at his wrists and hauls him upright.

“Okay.  It’s time.”

Miles’ heart stops.

Tristan moves aside to switch them around, Miles eagerly scrambling on top of him, kissing him deep once he’s situated in Tristan’s lap.

Tristan responds by tugging lightly at Miles’ hair with one hand, pulling him closer, with the other hand grasping around for the lube to coat himself.

“It’s been so long, babe.”  Miles whispers into Tristan’s lips.

“It’s been, like, a week.”  Tristan laughs, lightly squeezing Miles’ ass to indicate he was ready.

“It’s been for _ever_ ,”  Miles insists.

Miles pushes himself up on his knees again, positioning Tristan’s cock just right.  His jaw falls slightly open as he sinks down, steadying himself with a cautious hand on Tristan’s chest.

Tristan is quiet, watching, both of his hands now on Miles’ waist as if to carefully guide him down.

Miles takes all of Tristan in one go, exhaling and grinning proudly at him.

Tristan smiles back, reaching around to the small of Miles’ back to press him in closer.

Miles’ cage bounces just the slightest bit, tugging uncomfortably at his skin, and Tristan’s eyes darken as they follow downwards.

Miles begins rolling his hips on Tristan, at long last feeling the barely-there graze on his prostate again.

He hears his fiancé hum, and he shifts his hand up to Tristan’s shoulder, licking his lips and preparing to speed up their rhythm.

“How’s it feel in your cage?”

“Manageable.”

Tristan brushes a finger on Miles through the bars, drawing a sharp moan.

“Fuck you,” Miles laughs, breathlessly.

“Oh, you don’t like that?”  Tristan wraps his criminally soft hand around Miles’ cage, chuckling when Miles tightens around him.

Still laughing involuntarily, Miles begs, “Please don’t do that.”

After hearing a purr in response, he begins lifting his hips to properly fuck Tristan, trying to distract him.  Trying to distract himself too, he supposes.

It doesn’t work.

As he moves up and down, Tristan’s hand is incidentally jolting on him, pleasure-pain driving him further away from the composure he had at the beginning of the night.

He tries to focus on satisfying Tristan – maybe if he gets him close enough he’ll forget all about the cage, maybe if he kisses him…

So he inches closer, a hand in Tristan’s hair, lips mere millimetres away, trying to make it like that one delicious scene you always see in movies, where the intimacy is tangible, bodies are moving together, pulling closer.  He tries to get his lover sidetracked with passion.

Still doesn’t _fucking_ work.

He can’t think, it’s too much, and then Tristan starts intently twisting his hand over Miles’ available skin, and suddenly something snaps and he stops moving, he tenses, burrows his face into his fiancé’s neck, breathing heavy, shaky.

“Please, Tris.”  He’s quieter than he thought he’d be.

Tristan takes his hands off of Miles altogether, softly asking, “Okay, what’s your colour?”

“Orange.  No – yellow, yellow.  But, you said you were gonna be nice to me; please, Tris, it _hurts_.”

“Okay, okay.  We’ll stop.  It’s okay, honey.”

Tristan’s voice is reassuring, gentle as he reaches up to his own shoulders to tangle his fingers with Miles’. 

 “I don’t want to stop, I just –“  Miles swallows, still panting.  “I just wanna make you cum.  That’s all I want.”

“Okay.  We can do that.”

“That’s all I want,”  he repeats.

“I know, I understand.”

Miles attempts to compose himself, closing his eyes to take deep breaths, shifting on top of Tristan.

Eventually he shakes his head.  “Can you just unlock it?  I don’t need to cum, it just hurts, I can’t…”

“I’m on it.”  Tristan reaches for the key in the bedside drawer.

After taking the cage piece off but leaving the ring in place, Tristan lifts Miles off of him and guides him to lie down.

Tristan brings Miles’ knees up and explains, “This way it won’t pull so much, yeah?”

Miles nods, instinctively bringing a hand up to catch in Tristan’s hair, watching him angle himself above the brunet.

“You okay with this?”

“Yeah.  Fuck, yeah,”  Miles confirms.

Tristan pushes in, slow and attentive, and Miles feels strangely calmer with the familiarity of Tristan inside him again.  He feels his heartrate even out, and he wraps his legs around Tristan’s waist, earning a smile and a sweet kiss.

Miles’ mind _melts_ – this is exactly where he wants to be, face-to-face with the love of his life, feeling full and wanted, bodies together, mouths together.

Soon enough Tristan is moving, hitting that perfect spot inside Miles, provoking delicious moans from both of them as the mattress rocks beneath them.

Their eyes lock as Tristan rests his forehead on Miles’, watching him be driven wild by the tension he knows he’s not allowed to release.

Having his cock free is both a blessing and a curse, as he feels Tristan’s skin brushing back and forth over him.

Miles closes his eyes, trying to regain control.

“Babe, you gotta –”

Tristan hums a question.

“You gotta fucking cum, come on.”  Miles claws at Tristan’s shoulders, agitated.

“Yeah?  Why?”  Tristan teases, breath hot on Miles’ neck.

“’Cause I’m gonna.”

“Then you’d better stop yourself.”  Tristan stills, shifting his weight, and Miles knows what’s coming.

He feels Tristan’s fingers wrap around the base of his cock and press down into the skin, as if coaching him what to do.

He winces, obediently following the instruction with his own hand.

He presses in harder than Tristan did, tipping his head back as Tristan restarts his rhythm.

It’s surprisingly easy, despite Tristan slamming into his prostate, for Miles to hold back his release with his own hand preventing it.

The only difficult part is motivating himself, knowing he could let go, he could stroke himself, he could cum with Tristan inside him, over him, he _could_ , but he won’t, because Tristan doesn’t want him to, and what if Tris noticed and stopped him?

Or, even worse, what would happen when Tristan saw him give in and was disappointed?

So he doesn’t.  He digs his fingers in deeper, maybe too deep, while an angel fucks him and cums deep into him, pressing his jaw into Miles’ collarbone and breathing hard.

Miles keeps his fingers where they are for a moment, unclear on how high the chances are that he’ll cum if he lets go.

Tristan falls to the side, worn out, gazing at Miles.  He traces a finger along Miles’ jaw, admiring, marvelling, inching forward to steal a quick kiss when Miles’ eyes soften.

The brunet ultimately decides to let go of his cock, and brings both hands up to frame his fiancé’s face as he brings their lips together again.

Tristan soon breaks them apart to catch his breath, looking at Miles again with unfocused eyes.

“Love you.”

“Love you too, Tris.”

 

 

After they climb under the covers and switch off the light, Tristan turns to Miles.

“Do you… wanna talk about what you said earlier?”

“About going a month?”

Tristan hums confirmation.

“I still want to.  Just… I don’t know;  I don’t know what happened tonight.  I guess it was just too intense.”  Miles’ voice is low and faint.

Tristan shifts a little closer to him.  “You need me to tell you what I’m gonna do first?”

“No, it’s not that, I just… didn’t know if I could ask you to stop?”

“Oh, honey, of course you can!”  Tristan rubs a hand over Miles’ forearm.  “I’m so sorry; of _course_ you can.  I know when we started all this I didn’t really… I – I never planned for it to be this hard.”

“It’s okay.  I like it this way,”  Miles reassures him.  “I think we just… maybe should have talked about rules and punishments and stuff.  And boundaries.”

“Yeah, I’m sorry.  I thought we’d take it one day at a time but we should talk.”

Miles turns a little more to face Tristan, despite the darkness.

“Okay, so… first, I don’t want you to punish me for things I can’t help.  Like, if you make me cum and I _really_ tried not to, can you just tell me it’s okay?”

Tristan offers a gentle, “Yeah.”

“‘Cause I’ll be mad enough at myself.  Um, and I don’t mind you edging me, but it hurts in the cage.”

“Got it.  I don’t want to hurt you at all.  That’s not ever something that I want.”

Miles pauses, considering.

“Not even if… I want it?”

Tristan pauses too.  “That’s… complicated.  I kinda f-”  he stops, thinking.  “I feel like I _could_ , but I don’t really _want_ to, you know?”

“Yeah, I get that.  S’okay.  I don’t think I’d ever want… a lot.  Of that.”

Tristan shuffles closer again, tracing patterns on Miles’ arm.  “So, is that something you want to incorporate or, not really?”

“Maybe just once.  And not too much.  I don’t know for sure if I’d like it.”

“Okay.  Any… preferences about how, or where?”

Miles thinks, biting his lip.  “No marks.  No, you know, knives, or anything.”

“Oh, _God_ , no.”  Tristan affirms.

“And you’d have to give me something good after.”

Miles can hear Tristan’s playful smile when he responds,  “Oh, like what?”

“Uh.  Making out?  Getting take-out for dinner?  I don’t know.  I’d say cumming, but that’s obviously out of the question.”

“Mmkay.  So, like, where’re your limits, do you think?  Like, out of ten where would you wanna be?”

Miles thinks for a moment, then digs his nails into the skin of his hip, testing.

“I could go up to six or seven, I think.  I’d be more comfortable with three or four though.  But it can’t just be pointless pain; it’d have to be something sexual.”

“Got it.  So, biting?  Scratches?  Hair pulling?  What kind of stuff?”

“Any – all of that.  Love it.”  He grins.

Tristan mirrors his smile in the dark, and reaches a hand up to gently tangle in Miles’ hair.

“So tonight, I’d like you not to cum, obviously.”

Miles hums, enjoying Tristan’s fingers wandering across his scalp.

“Tomorrow we can… try some of that, if you’re still wanting to.”

“I will be.”

Tris laughs quietly, both of them knowing he’s going to ask tomorrow anyway.

 

 

Around 3:30am, Miles nudges Tristan awake.

“Tris?”

“Mm.”

“Tris.”

“What is it, babe.”

“Help me lock it again?”


End file.
